


An Experiment, Actually

by tepidspongebath



Series: Christmas Fics [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, Humor, Inadvisably applied, Love Actually References, M/M, The Scientific Method
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-13 16:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9132349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tepidspongebath/pseuds/tepidspongebath
Summary: Hypothesis:John Watson resembles the naked man in that holiday movie everyone keeps going on about.Experimental Procedure:ObviousFor the Seasonal Fucking Cheer Ficathon promptLove, Actually: That porn stunt double does not look like me AT ALL what are you on aboutand inspired bykhorazir's art for the same prompt.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [khorazir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/khorazir/gifts).



> Many, many thanks for letting me write something around your art! 
> 
> I'm just slipping this in now, to get the cleaned-up bit in before 2017 happens. See you all in the new year!

“Excuse me?”

John nearly put his hands over his eyes. He nearly gave a pained groan. It was that time of year again, he knew that tone, this had been happening since bloody 2003...

“I’m sorry,” said the woman, “but you look awfully familiar.”

Yes, and here it came...

“Did I see you in _Love, Actually_ \- you know, the naked guy?”

Behind him, he heard Lestrade snort into his drink.

“No,” said John with what he hoped was a polite smile. “That wasn’t me.”

“Oh. But you look just like him.”

“No. No, I don’t.” John knew his smile had taken on a certain strained quality, but he was past caring. “I think I’d know if I was naked in a major film. I’m a doctor, really.”

“Oh.” She made it sound as if that was vastly disappointing. “Well. Sorry then.”

And she went back to her group of friends and stayed there. John tried to go back to his pint.

However, as luck would have it, Greg had Netflix on his phone. It had taken him only a few seconds to find the thrice-damned film, skim through it, and pause at the scene where the porn stunt double’s face was framed by the actress’s thighs.

“Christ,” he said, not even trying to stifle a laugh. “That _could_ be you!”

“Et tu, Greg?” John sighed. “And here I thought we were friends.”

Lestrade clapped him on the back and insisted that, yes, they were friends, but John began to have serious doubts about that when, upon arriving at 221B, he showed the screen cap to Sherlock.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“John, I wasn’t aware of your acting career until now.”

“Oh, come off it. Are you watching that dratted film as well? I’m telling you now what I’ve told countless others in the past who felt the need to point out certain - imagined - similarities: that porn stunt double does not look like me AT ALL.”

“If you say so.”

“Oh, shut up.”

And John kept up a low, dark muttering as he finished his morning toast. But he made a second cup of tea for Sherlock before he left, so he wasn’t actually all that pissed.

Sherlock contemplated this as he spread honey over his own toast. He’d watched the whole film once (tolerable, did not require as great a stretch of credulity as those Bond films John preferred, some of those relationships weren’t going to last once the warm glow of the holidays evaporated, ‘cute British accent’ his holy arse) and had gone over the pertinent bits about a dozen times, sometimes holding the tablet up to John’s sleeping face. _And he still couldn’t make up his mind about it_.

Oh, he was teasing John about it, yes, but that was on a level with finding out his middle name - over small things like this, it was _fun_ to tease John. However, like John’s middle name, this was going to give him no rest until he reached a satisfying, definitive conclusion, and, _unlike_ John’s middle name, it wasn’t a simple matter of analyzing popular baby names in the right year, confiscating his computer, and, when all else failed, sneaking into his room to find the copy of his birth certificate that most responsible adults had on hand.

It was driving him up the wall.

Of course, he was familiar with the idea of unrelated people looking practically identical through some accident of genetics (Irene Adler had made rather ruthless use of one such body double, and he himself had taken advantage of the one Moriarty discarded, hadn’t he?), and he supposed it was conceivable that there was someone out there John could use in the event that he needed to fake his death. But whether it was this particular naked man...

Current evidence would suggest that this was indeed the case, considering that people on the street were still commenting on the resemblance thirteen years after the film had come out. Sherlock, however, was disinclined to trust the average person on the street, although he would concede that they had the advantage in terms of familiarity with pop culture. What he needed was good, solid, _empirical_ data.

One obvious course of action would be to track down this actor and conduct an analysis in person. Sherlock toyed with that idea for part of the morning and made it as far as the man’s IMDB page (he’d certainly kept himself busy in the past few years) before deciding against it. He did not have Mycroft’s aversion to legwork, but even he could see that potentially having to travel to a different country to settle the matter was going a bit too far. Besides, John would complain, or at least he would when he learned what it was all about (of course he’d have to take John with him for it to work, that was the whole point).

The second, infinitely more acceptable option occurred to him a few seconds later. It was, in fact, so obvious he was surprised he hadn’t thought of it _first_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue here is [what Khorazir wrote for the art that inspired this fic](https://khorazir.tumblr.com/post/153993178663/john-i-wasnt-aware-of-your-acting-career-until)!


	3. Chapter 3

“Bit bright in here, isn’t it?” John blinked hard as he stepped into the flat. He had to shade his eyes with one hand to look up at the new light bulbs. It looked like Sherlock had tried to bottle the sun.

“It’s for an experiment.”

“Ah.” John left it at that. Bright lights were far from the worst thing 221B had seen for the sake of science. “Bit warm too,” he said, shrugging off his jacket.

“Experiment!” called Sherlock from the kitchen. “You took your time getting home.”

“ _You_ told me I couldn’t come home before ten o’clock. I took an extra half hour to give you time to get rid of the fumes. At least, I assumed there’d be fu-- dear God, where are your trousers? Did the experiment eat those as well?”

“What? No.” Sherlock looked down as though he was noticing their absence for the first time. “Like you said, it’s a bit hot.”

John shook his head. Sherlock wandering around the flat in a state of undress wasn’t unusual, but it didn’t often look like he was trying to recreate that scene in _Risky Business_ where Tom Cruise danced around in his underpants. “So you took off your trousers? Instead of, I don’t know, adjusting the thermostat to a more reasonable temperature?”

“You’re taking off your shirt,” Sherlock pointed out, turning tail and heading to the bedroom.

John followed him, squinting as he undid his buttons. The bedroom was just as brightly lit, and just as warm. He removed his undershirt too. “Far be it for me to interfere with your experiment. Though I’m not going to explain this month’s gas bill to Mrs. Hudson.”

Sherlock gave an absentminded hum, dismissing the possible future of a displeased Mrs. Hudson in favor of helping John out of his own trousers in the present. Still, John noticed that his kisses felt ever so slightly distracted as Sherlock guided him to the bed: perhaps the threat of an unhappy landlady had gotten to him after all. He was about to ask if Sherlock had something on his mind when something else distracted _him_.

“Are these new sheets?”

“Does it matter?” huffed Sherlock, pushing him down onto the mattress and straddling his stomach.

“I guess not.” Then he saw something out of the corner of his eye, and he turned his head to look more closely at the pillow he was lying on. “Wait, is that embroidery? And _tassels_?”

“Look at me, John.” Sherlock’s voice was soft, insistent, and John didn’t need more incentive than that to look up at him, watch appreciatively as he unbuttoned that tight shirt, and give him his undivided attention when he scooted a few inches forward. Seeing Sherlock Holmes like this took his breath away, for more reasons than the simple fact that the man was sitting on his chest, thighs parted so that his knees were on the pillow on either side of John’s head. It had been several months, and he still couldn’t get over the fact that he had this, that _they_ had this.

In a moment of complete and utterly unguarded affection, he smiled up at the love of his life.

He was blinded by the camera flash less than a second later.

“ _What the hell, Sherlock!_ ” John sat up, dislodging the detective, who dodged nimbly when he tried to snatch the tablet from his hands. “Where did you even pull that from?”

“It was under the other pillow, John. Do keep up.” He stayed just out of John’s reach, but made no effort to hide the screen. Half was taken up by the photograph he’d just taken - John’s happy face framed by Sherlock’s lean thighs - and the other half was filled by a distressingly similar image. Those were definitely another person’s thighs. “Just as I thought. The resemblance is there, even given the thirteen year gap, but it’s superficial at best. I would never mistake _him_ for _you_.” Sherlock grinned. “I knew I’d reach a satisfactory conclusion if I could recreate the shot.”

John put a hand over his eyes and groaned. Suddenly, it all made terrible sense. “This is all about _that stupid film_?”

“Well, yes.” Sherlock slid the tablet onto the bedside table and turned onto his side. “You’re going to make me pay for that, aren’t you?”

"You _know_  I am," growled John, rolling on top of Sherlock, pinning him in place with his weight as he snatched up the offending tablet. "Now, if I remember right, there are a few other scenes in this film we could 'recreate'." And he kissed Sherlock, smiling in spite of himself. He really wasn't all that pissed. "Let's broaden your experiment's sample set."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, _so_ many thanks to Khorazir for letting me write for her art! I love that illustration, and had fun writing this, I hope you like it. Merry last day of Christmas!
> 
> Secondly, I've signed up as a contributor for [Fandom Trumps Hate](http://fandomtrumpshate.tumblr.com/), which, to take it from their tumblr page, is a fandom auction to benefit charities in the wake of the US Presidential election. I feel very strongly about what went down in November, and want to _do something_ , lots of somethings, in any way I can. Bidding starts on January 12, do check it out: [there are nearly 700 contributors for a multitude of fandoms](https://fandomtrumpshateofferings.tumblr.com/). Thanks!


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